


Real Unicorns Were De-Immortalized in the Casting of This Spell

by nanachan413



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Magical Realism, Angry Eren Yeager, Attraction, F/F, Gay, Horses, Jean has unicorn PJs, Jean neighs at a horse, Jean tries and fails to create Eren's perfect woman, M/M, Mage!Jean, Magic, Prince!Eren, SO GAY, Tumblr Memes, it's funny because Eren's gay, prince allen is eren because weird public-private royalty names, so is jean, whoa they have a tag for that holy what
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-18
Updated: 2014-08-18
Packaged: 2018-02-13 16:31:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,717
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2157513
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nanachan413/pseuds/nanachan413
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>Prince Allen must be the most selfish little brat in the world, if he’d consented to the use of an ingredient that would dispossess Jean’s sweet Butternut of her everlasting life.</em>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Real Unicorns Were De-Immortalized in the Casting of This Spell

**Author's Note:**

  * For [dizzyondreams](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dizzyondreams/gifts).



> A plot bunny came hopping up to me, and I just had to feed it a fanfiction carrot. I don't know what I'm doing, but I hope it's readable. Enjoy!

“I’m sorry, Butternut,” Jean sighed, “I hate to do this, but I really have to, babe.” He and this beautiful creation of the gods stood face to face in Trost’s windy green unicorn pastures. Jean scratched his girl's muzzle remorsefully. Butternut whinnied softly amidst the lush grasses, and Jean’s heart broke in two. 

Prince Allen must be the most selfish little brat in the world, if he’d consented to the use of an ingredient that would dispossess Jean’s sweet Butternut of her everlasting life. 

With all goodbyes said, Jean reached over the creature’s horn and whispered a series of incantations. The unicorn’s pristine white colors began to fade, rapidly replaced by a spreading chocolate brown. The mane Jean was stroking lost its lustre and silver-grey tone. A last few words were murmured, and before the magician stood an ordinary chestnut mare. “Love you, babe, and this is goodbye,” Jean crooned sorrowfully. 

He pocketed the shell-like horn, hefted his satchel, and went on his merry way. 

~~

Back home, Jean raced down to his supply cellar. Gently placing the last remnant of Butternut amongst the rest of the ingredients, he thanked her for her ultimate sacrifice. Jean was a good man, but he understood what had to be done in the name of magic. The price of a spell was never too high for _this_ magician.

All the same, he’d never had to kill anyone for part of a recipe like he’d have to now. The cellar walls closed in on him a little, every time he thought about it. Hissing slightly as the horn slid into its selected box (phoenix breathe burned, but it preserved ingredients like nothing else; Jean had collected more than a hundred portions of the stuff to ensure the fresh, wholesome nature of his supplies), Jean pulled another glass case from its designated slot in the wall.

He didn’t want to do this spell, to be honest. Jean only magicked for his own amusement, but as the spells he played with grew larger, so did his reputation. Now the prince of the kingdom wanted a perfect human girl for his perfect queenie wife. Which Jean was going to create through fucking _magic_. 

_There’s a reason no one does these spells. ‘Cause that shit’s rare, expensive, immensely powerful, and uses an elephantine amount of MP, not to mention including ingredients collected through the killing and maiming of other creatures, you little prick of a prince!_

But shit, the prince got what he wanted. Jean preferred life to the certain death of refusing him, thank you very much. His Royal Highness was prissy as fuck and had a temper the length of Duke Levi, or so he'd heard;Jean might have to capture a fairy and take out its eyes next week, but at least Prince Allen hadn’t ordered the taking out of _his_ eyes.

He sighed, replacing the glass container in its slot. Forty-nine out of fifty, one to go. The hardest component of this person-conjuring sorcery was perhaps the most perilous to collect. _Fucking fairies and their sparkly-eyes. Why the fuck does Prince Allen want fairy eyes, for gods' sakes?! Is he allergic to regular humans? Pretentious little shit._

Jean trudged back up the steps to his living room and collapsed on the couch, bemoaning out loud the normalcy of his Butternut. 

“My baby girl!” he sobbed dryly, “Nothing but an old chestnut mare! She’s not even immortal anymore!” But it was Butternut or his head, and Jean could find better ways to go than decapitation. He groaned. “Time to move on to that final ingredient.” 

_No, I deserve a fucking break._

He dug around in the cushions for an extra message scroll, sure that he’d dropped it in there sometime last week. Jean’s hand met something dry and leathery.

“Found it!”

**To: Freckled Jesus**

**AAAAAAAUUUUUUUUUGHHH**

He babbled a few words, watched the paper sprout wings and fly off at a million miles per minute, and switched on the television. An influx of trolls had stormed the prince’s palace. Great.

Jean idly wondered if His Royal Highness really had the time for a bride right now. _I understand that everyone wants to get laid, but is this really the time? The asshole has a mob of trolls at his doorstep. What a fucking priss._ His own lifestyle was modest; mansions and models alike were not included. Because as sad as it was, Jean was gay as _fuck_. Maybe that was why he was so attached to his unicorn. Also, mansions were overrated. Jean had plenty of cash, but fuck him up the ass with a tree branch if he was going to give up his cozy brick cottage. 

He changed the channel. 

Marco’s reply hit him squarely in the jaw. “You little dickbag, you--!” Jean shouted at the scroll. ‘Wishes and Wizards’ was on, and Jean was literally going to die if Erwin didn’t end up with Mike. Like, flat out expire on the ground. He waited until Petra’s scenes to read his best friend’s answer. 

**To: Jean Kirstein**

**shhhh butternut’s not mad @ u dunworry**

**its okay bro**

**drink some potions while ur watching W &W u wanna keep ur hp level up**

And that was why Marco was his best friend. _Ehrmergerd, he understands me! Besties for liiiife!_

_Uh, I meant bros for life. Bros are manly. We watch football together. Yeah._

_Back to watching the Levi-Nile catfight on W &W._

~~

At the crack of dawn, his alarm rooster roused him from his slumber. Jean groaned heavily and smacked at the animal. “Shut up, Cock-a-doodle-dick!” and “Don’t be such a dildo,” when it started pecking him. Throwing his leg over the edge of the bed, he lazily rubbed at his eyes. _Fairy-hunting in the morning, what a perfect start to a perfect day. Time to steal an innocent magical being from its natural habitat and cut out its eyes._ He groggily mumbled a word and the curtains slid open, spilling rays of sunlight into his bedroom. 

Jean had half a mind to make the prince find that shitty fairy on his own. The bloodshed ordered would at least be on the hands of its commissioner. Plus, Jean might be able to sleep in longer, and the gift of staying in bed ‘till eleven a.m. was worth almost anything. Jean blew a puff of air through his nostrils, shucking his baby blue unicorn PJs. He would bet the existence of his dick that he was manlier than that loser--who couldn’t even get a girl without having a mage conjure one for him. He made his way to the shower, buck-ass nude. 

Jean likes to sing a song while bathing. It goes a little something like this: 

“Hot, hot, hot, hot, _hot, **hot** , fucking hell,”_

“Wait no now it’s freezing I think my balls just fell off please no no,”

“Okay, we’re good--NOOOO _WHY DID I LIGHTLY BUMP MY ELBOW INTO THE HANDLE_ IT BURNSSSSSSS,” and the shampoo spun down the drain. Finished.

Jean didn’t jack off. He wasn’t a teenager. He could control himself.

Okay, he jacked off last night, so he was saved the trouble of morning wood and--

_\--I, er, I mean, what? Masturbating? Naw, man. Who do you think I am? Jean Kirstein doesn’t do that. Jean Kirstein has a different partner every night. Jean Kirstein is the motherfucking life of the party._

Who was he kidding? Jean Kirstein was the epitome of social ineptitude, bordering on forever alone. _My life is a horrible tragedy. At least I have Marco._ He shivered when his wet skin met cool air. Commence the brushing of teeth, and the shaving of stubble, because despite his unicorn PJs, he still had _some_ body hair. 

...not much, admittedly. 

After concluding his bathroom routine, Jean threw on a light traveling tunic and a pair of cotton trousers. He checked his satchel for the essentials--potions, flight charms, an extra dose of phoenix breathe, attack talismans in case of real and intense dangers, and plenty of snacks. Perfect.

Wait.

What the hell was he going to catch the fairy with?

Jean gave himself a nice, sound smack to the forehead, hurrying back down the steps. _Where’d I put it? Where’d I put it? Gods, dammit, where’s the fucking jar?! Jacket, shorts, remote, cereal bowl, cushion, magic books, no, no, no, no, noooo_ aaaand Jean almost threw the glass container against the wall. He shoved the jar into the bag, pulled on his thick leather boots and resolutely marched back up the stairs and headed behind the house, to the barn. 

The fairy realm was far enough from Jean’s place that he’d decided to take his horse. Sojourner was used to spells and the like; the stallion should be calm enough to bring a relatively powerful fairy home from the Living Forest. Jean whistled to the black-maned beauty, and Sojourner came trotting forward from the back end of her stall. “Hey, darling,” Jean cooed, scratching the stallion’s muzzle. Sojourner snorted and nuzzled his shoulder, whinnying. “Neigh,” Jean mock-whinnied back at his steed. 

Fitting a saddle on Sojourner’s back, he lead his steed out of the barn, checked the necessities in his bag one last time, and jumped up on his mount. “Let’s go catch us a fairy, darling!” 

~~

“ _Come on_ , Your Highness, sit up straight!”

Prince Allen III of the Jaeger line, heir to the throne of Shiganshina, sat lounging idly in an oversized red chair. He huffed and turned toward the attendant nagging about his posture. “I’m leaving.”

“Finally decided against the blood orange sofa chair, Highness?”

“You’re so pretentious, Franz, _it’s fucking red!_ ” Allen stood suddenly and stalked out. 

On the way to the back door he knew wasn’t guarded, he was stalled by the appearance of one stifling, strict-ass sister. Allen loved Mari dearly, but she seemed to have a thing for breathing down his neck--

Not _literally_ , you gross fuck.

\--and it irritated him at times. His sister was the shit, but he really didn’t need her overprotective ways and her tendency to act like a third legal guardian. 

_What can you do, you know?_ Allen groaned, preparing his list of common excuses for Mari’s barrage of questions. 

“Are you going out, Eren?”

Well, he certainly hadn’t expected such a blunt prologue to the interrogation, and he didn’t know what to say in return. Allen chose to fixate on her inappropriate use of his given name instead. 

“ _Odin,_ Mikasa, you’re supposed to use our public names! Franz is in the _next room_ ,” he hissed, but Mikasa only raised one sharply-defined eyebrow.

“Hypocrite,” she stated, rolling her eyes pointedly at him. “And where do you think you’re headed?”

“Um, the...throne...room?” He stuttered unconvincingly. Mikasa threw Eren another eye-roll, and a look that screamed ‘bullshit’. _You’re an angel,_ Eren tried to tell himself, _you have done nothing wrong. Keep calm and carry on like the innocent baby you are._

“ _Every time,_ ” Mikasa sighed, “Every _single_ time, you pull that face that makes me want to sock you in the stomach. Sorry, little bro, _but you ain’t foolin’ nobody._ ” 

“I...I tried?” 

“Get your ass across the house from the back door before I kick it there,” she muttered. Eren ducked his head down and pouted like a chastised child. 

“But Mikaaaasaaaaaaa!”

“You’ll not get past me, shitty brother of mine.”

“I just wanna go visit Armin--”

“Armin has plenty of little fairy friends that he’d rather be studying musty old novels with, I assure you.” His cutesy approach wasn’t working. Eren played the ‘serious facade with a slightly sorrowful demeanor’ card. 

“Mikasa, I know you care about me,” he began. His sister was still glaring. “But I’m so trapped behind these walls; I can’t breathe in here! They didn’t even let me outside today--”

“That’s a lie. I talked to Annie.” Shit. Annie was a Head Attendant and Mikasa’s soulmate. Eren needed to cover up his blunder. 

“Really, Mikasa, they don’t let me go _anywhere_. I know I’m the heir--”

“I have no idea what was going through Dad’s head when he made that decision--”

“--but they’ve taken away my freedom! A ride or two is all I ask, I swear!”

“...fine.”

“I’ll govern your provinces for the next two weeks; I’ll even manage those rogue tax collectors. I’ll do anything, I swear--wait, what?”

“Fine, Eren. But I’m casting a tracking incantation. Take your most powerful attack scrolls. Wear your assassin’s blade. Three HP crystals and enough MP to last a week. A life supply of protection chants.” She waved him off in the direction of the armory. 

“Hell yeah! The outside world, bitches!” Eren was already rushing up the winding oak stairs, mentally searching his room for his haversack. “Thanks, Mikasa!”

“Eren!”

“Yeah?”

“You were desperate enough to play the ‘serious facade with a slightly sorrowful demeanor’ card, is why I let you go!”

“ _Dammit,_ ” Eren breathed.

~~

Jean hated narrow paths; collisions were around every corner. And shit, the shortest path to fairy-magic-la-la-land had to be the tightest road in the universe. Hell, this path was thinner than Jean’s crocheting needles. 

Um, not that he had any crocheting needles. Or pink lacy aprons with ‘kiss the cook’ printed on them. Definitely not three pairs of crimson red lingerie bought so he would feel pretty owning them--

Okay, enough. The path was really thin, and that was _all_ the reader needed to know. 

He was surprised at the lack of crashes he’d thus far encountered. Sojourner cantered smoothly along in the dirt, occasionally stopping to take a piss. Jean watched a rabbit scamper into the bushes-- _Damn, I forgot to eat breakfast; that bunny would look nicer skinned and roasting on a stick, right now_ \--and wondered how long it would take for him to arrive at the borders of the Living Forest. 

_Don’t get me wrong, I love bunnies. I just love food and nourishment more._ Was it him, or did the path seem longer than before? 

The horse trotted around a sharp curve in the road, his master so deep in a hunger-induced trance that another steed’s galloping pace went unnoticed until Sojourner reared in alarm, sending Jean flying from the saddle and into the bushes beside the road. 

~~

“Are you alright?” Said the teal-eyed gentleman with the chestnut brown bangs, extending a hand out towards the fallen mage. 

Jean wondered if he’d flown past the pearly gates and landed straight in heaven, because this guy looked like an _angel_. 

Until he continued talking. 

“My Arabian thoroughbred has a rolled ankle. Please, for the love of the gods, watch where you’re going!”

Jean was indignant. “You came charging at my horse at a million miles per minute, and you have the gall to tell me watch where _I’m_ going?!” 

“You obviously weren’t keeping your eyes on the road!”

“You were going the speed of a magic carpet, you douchebag!” Jean shot a glare at the other male, acting as intimidating as one could while stuck in a roadside bush. Colorful-Eyes stared right back, two horses peacefully nuzzling each other behind him. If the circumstances were different, Jean would’ve thought the scene cute. As it was, however, his blood was boiling and sitting in a bush was incredibly uncomfortable. 

This hottie was _such_ a dick. He could _suck_ Jean’s dick. Literally. Jean would very much enjoy tha-- _shut up, you sorry excuse of a brain, I have a serious issue to settle!_

“Hold on, before we start this argument,” Jean grumbled, twigs jabbing at his sides, “this is very uncomfortable, so if i could just take your hand for a sec--” He pulled himself up, blushing slightly; yeah, this guy was an asshole, but he was hot--“Thank you.” 

“You’re very welcome. Now where were we, Mr…?”

“Kirstein, asshole, Jean Kirstein. You nearly drove your sprinting stallion directly into Sojourner here; do you think you own the fucking road?!” 

“Nice to meet you, dickwad. The name’s...Eren. You rolled my horse’s ankle and I will sue you into the cold, hard ground. Now fucking _fight_ me, you bitch.” 

Jean grinned, watching the other . “Eren, is it? Well, Eren,” he hissed delightedly, veins coursing with the excitement of a challenge, “You bet your shitty Arabian thoroughbred I will _beat your ass_.”

**Author's Note:**

> The one and only time I went horseback riding, my horse stopped dead in the middle of a path hanging _narrowly over a precipice_ and started peeing. Forgive me for any mistakes I've made, and please warn me, I'll fix them :) Thank you for reading!


End file.
